


Parental Guidance

by MissAnnThropic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:25:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6020356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnnThropic/pseuds/MissAnnThropic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles comes out to his dad as bisexual, and it is not the most stressful part of John Stilinski’s evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Because it makes this fic more fun, John does not know about werewolves. Just go with it :) Also, since JD and Co. are shit at giving us any concrete timelines or ages for anyone, I have made it my head canon that Derek is six years older than Stiles.
> 
> General Warning: I will not tag to your satisfaction. I think tagging is out of control, and I will not tag a fic to the point of spoiling what happens in a fic. I’m an old-school reader who believes the story should be able to surprise you. If that’s a deal-breaker for you, turn back now.
> 
> Cross-posting: I do not consent to have my fics posted to other websites (such a Goodreads).

Stiles was trying to tell him something. Or ask him something. John wasn’t really sure which, but his son was exhibiting classic ‘trying to work up the courage to say something’ signs. Stiles may be a mere six months away from being a legal adult, but the hints and cues that Stiles was trying to talk to him about something were the same ones Stiles had had as a small child.

Things such as watching John like a hawk through dinners and movie nights only to look away whenever John caught his eye. Shadowing him around the house, tossing out random conversation starters (even more random than normal for Stiles), as if hoping one of them would magically become the perfect opening for what he really wanted to say. Walking into whichever room John was in only to stand there looking at him, lose his nerve, and walk out without saying anything.

It had been going on for two days now, and John was just about ready to corner Stiles and bust out some cop interrogation tricks to pull whatever it was out of him, if for no other reason than the fact that seeing Stiles do this again was a little bit heartbreaking. The last time he’d vacillated like this for days, it was because he was working up the guts to ask if his mom was going to die.

If he were a perfect parent, he would have been more patient with Stiles, but this behavior brought back a lot of bad memories for John Stilinski. An irrational part of his brain was sure this, too, would end in Stiles shaking and sobbing in his arms. Just… no. He couldn’t do anything like that again.

So he was unfairly short with Stiles when the teen came into the living room for the fifth time that day and stood staring at him with mouth opening and closing soundlessly. John admittedly lost his cool.

“Stiles… just spit it out.”

Stiles startled, like he’d been caught sneaking out of the house, and chewed on his bottom lip. “Yeah, so, I uh… I kind of need to talk to you?”

“I figured,” John sighed, turning off the television and beckoning Stiles closer. Stiles looked terrified, and that didn’t help John’s situation. His heart was hammering his chest, and he knew it shouldn’t be. Stiles could only lose his mother once, but still… this moment was a classic case of conditioning. All the external cues were screaming of _that day_. John could hear his son’s small voice in his head, “ _Dad? Is Mom gonna die?_ ”

Whatever _this_ was, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as _that_. They’d already gotten through the worst event in their lives together. Anything that was bothering Stiles now would be a piece of cake after Claudia’s death.

Stiles moved closer to his father’s recliner hesitantly, like he was actually afraid of what he had to tell him.

John’s stomach flipped. He sat forward in his seat, ready to move toward his son if need be. “Son, are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah… I’m just… I need to…” Stiles was fidgeting like crazy, picking apart the cuffs of his hoodie with his restless fingers and shifting his weight from foot to foot like he might make a run for it at any second. His eyes were darting. John hoped this wasn’t the precursor to a panic attack.

It horrified him to think that Stiles was this afraid of telling him whatever it was he wanted to tell him.

“Stiles,” he said gently, shoving aside his own anxiety at this too-familiar-Claudia’s-dying scenario and focusing on his son. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“Well, you _say_ that, but you might not be so chill about _this_ once you know what it is.”

John frowned and tried to imagine the worst thing Stiles could possibly be trying to tell him. “Did you murder someone?”

Stiles’ eyes jerked up to his, wide and shocked. “What? _No_!”

“Were you an accessory to murder?”

Stiles made a strangled noise. “Was I a… _oh my god_ , seriously? Why are you so convinced I’m tangled up in a homicide?”

John was not going to mention the reasons in the past he’d had cause to worry Stiles might be into that level of trouble. He didn’t think bringing them up would help Stiles say whatever he was trying so hard to say right now. And besides, that had been a year ago. Things had calmed down since then. Not as much as John would have liked, he was pretty damn sure Stiles was still into something unsafe deeper than he should be, but he was at least fairly certain his son wasn’t running with a gang of serial killers. Mostly because the body count had significantly dropped in Beacon County of late. Small mercies, John supposed.

“I’m just working my way down from the worst possibilities to things in the realm of ‘that’s not so bad’. Now back to the disaster checklist: are you on drugs?” John didn’t think so, he was confident he would have spotted the signs if Stiles were, but they were doing this. Might as well ask.

“Only the prescription ones I’m on for being a train wreck of a human being,” Stiles quipped sourly. Between his ADHD, anxiety, and recurring bouts of depression (the last two having started after Claudia died), Stiles was well-known at the local pharmacy.

So no crack addiction, then. That was a relief. “Did you get some girl pregnant?”

Stiles let loose a nervous laugh that was wobbling the line between hysterical and manic. “No, _definitely_ not.”

“Well, then I’m sure whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

“Right,” Stiles murmured dubiously, chewing on the side of his thumbnail anxiously and staring at the blank television screen like it might offer some magical salvation. As though making up his mind about it, Stiles dropped his hand down to his side and took a steeling breath. “Okay.” He moved to the couch at an angle to the recliner and sat down near his father, lines of his body tense with wariness. His knees were bouncing, jerky and rapid, like he was holding himself back from jumping to his feet and bolting up the stairs to his room.

John waited him out. He’d waited him out the first time, too. 

It didn’t mean he was calm about it, though. John had never recovered from the first time Stiles came to him like this. He hoped the second time wouldn’t be nearly so heartbreaking.

“Dad, I… I’m… I’mseeingsomeone.” Stiles got the last out in a rush, like he was afraid speaking slowly would give him a chance to chicken out of saying it at all.

John blinked. _Seeing someone_. Huh. Honestly, that was not what he’d expected Stiles to say. Fact of the matter was, Stiles didn’t seem to have much luck with his peers. John loved his son dearly, but he could admit that Stiles’ finer qualities were hard to root out sometimes. Underneath all his awkwardness and anxiety and sarcasm was an amazing person, but few teenagers had the patience to dig through the bullshit that Stiles used like a suit of armor to find it.

“Oh.” John wondered what he was supposed to say to that. What exactly was Stiles expecting? “Is it Lydia?”

Stiles snorted. “No, it’s not Lydia. She’s… don’t get me wrong, Lydia’s a goddess among mortals and she’s going to do great things in life, but I’m kind of over her.”

That felt like it deserved congratulating. John knew how long and intensely Stiles had been hung up on that girl. A girl who was never going to appreciate Stiles like he deserved, if they were being honest. He liked young Ms. Martin well enough, but she was far too wrapped up in being one of the popular kids to devote any quality time to Stiles, someone on the fringe of the high school social hierarchy (and honestly, probably destined to stay there). Not that that was something John could ever tell his son while he still had a major crush on the strawberry blonde – he wouldn’t hear a bad word spoken about his beloved Lydia Martin. But that wasn’t the point of the conversation, so he left it alone.

“Is it a girl at school? Have I met her? Or do I know her family?” That was the only reason he could think Stiles might be this freaked out about telling him. Maybe it was the Carmichael girl. Joseph Carmichael had been John’s main competition in the last election for sheriff – that could get awkward if their kids were dating now.

“No, Dad, it’s not…” Stiles swallowed and picked at the stitching on the old couch’s arm. “It’s not a girl.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“A boy?”

Stiles nodded without meeting his eyes.

Well. Okay. That was also unexpected, but definitely not on the order of magnitude of murder and drug abuse. John had never suspected Stiles might be gay (he’d idolized the Martin girl _forever_ ), but he wasn’t _mad_. John didn’t care what Stiles’ sexual orientation was, except that apparently Stiles thought it mattered. The fact that Stiles thought his father would disapprove was hurtful, and he couldn’t fathom where Stiles had gotten that idea.

Then John remembered that this was not the first time Stiles had broached the topic with him.

“Oh _hell_ ,” John groaned.

Stiles stiffened.

“You tried to tell me before,” John said guiltily, “at the Jungle that night. You tried to come out to me more than a year ago, and I _dismissed_ you. _Shit_. No wonder you’ve been afraid to tell me.”

Stiles blinked at him, confused. “What? No, that wasn’t… I mean, it wasn’t _exactly_ …”

“Stiles, I am _so sorry_. I was sure you were just yanking my chain. If I thought for a second you were serious I would not have shut you down like that.”

Stiles was studying him cautiously. “So… you’re okay with it? With me being into guys?”

“Yes, Stiles. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re attracted to boys or girls…”

“Both. Um. Just, for the record. I’m attracted to both.”

“Right. Well, that’s fine, too. I just want you to be happy. I want you to be loved.” John paused. “Does he love you?”

Stiles blushed. “Well, it’s still _new_ , so we haven’t really had a big gay heart-to-heart about it, but… I think so, yeah.”

“Good.” John took a breath. “Do you love him?”

Stiles went from pink to bright red. “ _Geez_ , Dad.”

“It’s a fair question.”

“Well, like I said, _still new_. Kind of early to be throwing around the L-word, but… yeah, I do.” Stiles almost smiled. “Like, maybe _a lot_.”

Oh boy. John shouldn’t be surprised his son had fallen head over heels, though. Stiles didn’t do anything by halves.

In fact, this might explain a lot of the inexplicable behavior problems that had seemed to appear out of nowhere in the last two years with his son. If Stiles was having a crisis about his sexuality – and if he thought his father wouldn’t be supportive if he realized his son was attracted to guys – then John had to share some blame for the lies and secrets Stiles had been cloaked in lately. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me earlier.”

“Well, it’s not just the _guy_ thing… but you’re being so nice about that so I almost don’t want to tell you the rest.”

Of course that had been too easy. “What rest?” John prompted, dread settling into the pit of his stomach.

“Umm…”

“Stiles.”

“He’s… older.”

Shit. “ _How much_ older?”

Stiles cringed down into the couch. “Uh… he’s twenty-three?”

“ _Stiles_!”

“I know! I know!” Stiles’ hands were flying, gesticulating wildly. “Believe me, I wish he wasn’t! This would be so much easier if he were five years younger. Like, I wouldn’t have been afraid to tell you if he were Scott’s age! Probably. Maybe. No, I would probably still be terrified to tell you, but he can’t help his age, Dad! And I’m almost eighteen, so what difference does it make?”

“It makes a _huge_ difference in the eyes of _the law_. As in what he’s doing with you is _illegal_.” It was taking all of John’s self-control not to surge to his feet and start pacing… or going for his gun.

Stiles’ expression turned on a dime then, something resolute and dark and frighteningly mature slamming down over the panicked teenager that had been sitting there just a second ago. “Okay, _no_. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Stiles, you know damn well that this is statutory –”

“ _No_!” Stiles leapt to his feet then, something wild and fierce in his face. “Dad, you’re not listening. He hasn’t _done_ anything. He _won’t_! Not for my lack of trying, though, I can tell you that.” Stiles raked his hands through his hair in frustration. “I keep telling him I’ll be eighteen in six months, actually less than that, so what’s the big deal?, but he’s so _stubborn_.”

Now John was confused.

Stiles was the one who started to pace. “All I want to do is kiss my boyfriend!” At his father’s incredulous look, Stiles had the decency to look abashed. “Okay, that’s not _all_ I want to do, but I’d settle for that! I am that thirsty! But Derek freaks out at anything more than _holding hands_!”

That drove John to _his_ feet. “Wait a second. _Derek_? As in _Derek Hale_?”

Stiles sagged. “Yeah, that look on your face right now is the other reason I didn’t want to tell you.”

John wasn’t sure what his face was doing, exactly, but it probably wasn’t pretty. Because _come on, Derek Hale_?

“So you’re dating a twenty-three-year-old former murder suspect?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Stiles grumbled bitterly.

“And how exactly does that sound to _you_? Because if there’s another way to look at this, I’d sure like to hear it.”

An expression like heartache settled in Stiles’ features. “You don’t know him like I do, Dad. He’s not a bad guy. He’s just had a metric ton of bad shit happen to him, and it’s not fair to hold that against him. Anyone who’s been through the shit he has would be messed up.”

So Stiles was admitting his boyfriend was a mess? Wonderful. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“ _Yes_. Because despite all the crap that he’s been through, he’s still a good person. It takes a while for him to let you in, I’ll grant you, but he let _me_ in, and he is the most loyal, honorable, kind person I’ve ever met.” Stiles smirked. “And he’s hot like _burning_ , like seriously _oh my god_.”

His son just couldn’t resist being the reason John would have an early heart attack.

“I’m not interested in how hot your boyfriend is,” John groused. “That’s not what a father cares about.”

“Well, what about the rest? Do you not care that he’s loyal and kind and honorable…”

“ _Honorable_? He’s a twenty-three-year-old dating a seventeen-year-old.”

“And he treats me like we’re waiting for marriage!” Stiles squawked.

 _Oh dear god_.

“Not that we’re shopping for rings or anything!” Stiles hastened to add. “What I mean is that Derek _refuses_ to touch me. He won’t even _kiss_ me! Because however hung up on the age difference you think _you_ are, he’s _worse_.”

John frowned, not sure he was buying that. “If Derek’s so bothered by the age gap, why are we even having this conversation? Why can’t he just find someone his own age?”

Stiles looked hurt. “Maybe he doesn’t think it’s as easy to stop caring about me as you think it is.”

John flinched. “Stiles, that’s not… you’re twisting my words. That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t think that and you know it. You know I love you.”

“But Derek can’t?”

Derek _shouldn’t_. John pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache blooming behind his eyes. “If you two aren’t doing anything, _so you say_ , then how are you even dating? What do you _do_ together if you don’t…” No, he would not imagine his son having illegal sex with Derek Hale. Damnit, too late. He needed a drink.

Stiles cleared his throat. “It’s all very Victorian, much to my dismay,” Stiles muttered. “We can’t even go out to the movies or dinner in a restaurant because we’ve been so worried someone would see us and it would get back to you.” Stiles glowered at that fact, then he got back to the question and shrugged. “We talk about stuff.”

“What kind of _stuff_?” 

“Everything. Life. Us. If Affleck is going to completely suck as Batman. The future.” 

John’s heart sank. The way Stiles said ‘the future’ sounded like he really meant ‘our future’… and John was starting to realize this was much more serious than he’d feared.

Stiles pursed his lips. “Derek wants to wait until I’m eighteen to do… well, _anything_. He’s fine with that. It’s me who doesn’t want to wait.”

“You’re _seventeen_.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, so _everyone_ keeps telling me. But it’s not fair! A six year difference only matters now. No one’s going to give a shit when I’m twenty-seven and he’s thirty-three, or when I’m forty-seven and he’s fifty-three.”

Oh _fuck_. “Hold up, hold up… are you saying that just to prove your point, or have you two actually talked about still being together when you’re in your forties and fifties?” Because the answer would be telling.

Stiles went still. “We’ve talked about it.”

Well, _shit_.

“Stiles…” John sighed. Some days he felt Claudia’s absence more acutely than others, but he couldn’t remember ever missing his wife by his side more than he did now. She would know what Stiles needed, how to balance protective with unreservedly loving. Instead Stiles had John gnashing his teeth as his roles of father, officer of the law, and fellow human being all seemed to clash together in a sharp-angled mess.

Stiles was quiet a long time (for him, anyway) before he said, “I get why you’re not happy about this, and I understand Derek’s reservations, but I don’t think I’m being unreasonable to want a little affection.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “No one’s ever wanted me before. Is it wrong for me to want that?”

The urge to pull Stiles into a hug was hard to resist. “You deserve to have that,” John agreed, “but did it have to be _him_?”

“Yeah, I think it kinda did.”

An awkward silence fell between father and son. John wanted to get out of the house, go for a walk and digest everything he’d just heard, but he was kind of worried if he left the house he might end up at Hale’s door. He didn’t want to be the guy who punched a man without so much as a hello.

“Derek won’t let us do anything before my eighteenth birthday unless you’re okay with it,” Stiles said at length. He huffed out a breath. “Honestly, I think he figured that would shut me up. I bet he didn’t think I’d have the guts to ask you. He underestimates my willingness to march into the lion’s den for him. Though I really have no idea _why_. He should know me better than that.”

On a scale from 1 to 10 of reassuring, that ranked a -5. John looked skyward, as if hoping for Claudia to come to his rescue. “So let me see if I’ve got this straight. You want me to give you and Derek permission to have sex.”

Stiles fought a smirk. “Well, yeah. I mean, that would be the best possible outcome from this painful conversation. But if that’s too much to ask… it would be nice to be able to go on a date in town with my boyfriend without being worried about being caught. If we could just stop acting like loving each other is the worst thing we could have done. Yeah, _that’d_ be great.”

John sat back down in his recliner, roughing a hand over his hair in frustration. He must have done something sinister in a past life to have this dumped in his lap was all he could figure. He was a puppy-kicker in his last incarnation and now he was paying for it. “What would have been so bad about waiting six months? Huh? Why are you putting this on me?”

Stiles reclaimed his seat on the couch and angled to face his father. “Be honest, you wouldn’t have liked it any better in six months, me being eighteen or not. Coming to you now lets you have a say in our relationship. At least for a little while. Because whatever you decide, Derek will abide by it.”

That was not nearly as generous as Stiles was painting it to be. “This is a test, isn’t it?” John asked shrewdly. “If I say no and make you wait until the stroke of midnight on your birthday to be intimate with your boyfriend, you’ll go along with it because Derek will make you, but you’re always going to hold that against me, aren’t you?”

Stiles’ eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I can’t stop you from seeing it that way, but it’s really not about that.” Stiles sagged, posture slumping. “I’m just sick and tired of my chance to be happy with someone being put on hold because of our _ages_. Anything could happen in six months. There are no guarantees – one of us could _die_ – and if we never got to be together because we were waiting for this magical day on the calendar…”

John winced. He didn’t wonder why Stiles would contemplate the possibility that death could steal their days, rip them from one another. Claudia’s death had left them both permanently scarred.

“No matter what you say, Derek and I are going to be together in six months.”

Despite Stiles’ gentle tone, that still sounded like a threat. Or an ultimatum. It sat ill with him. John didn’t want this to become a battle between him and his son. John wasn’t the bad guy in this scenario. “I just want what’s best for you, son.”

Stiles’ expression softened. “I know.”

“Derek’s a troubled man.” Maybe it wasn’t fair to say that, maybe it was victim-blaming, but when it concerned Stiles’ well-being, John found he could be remarkably callus toward the rest of humanity.

“Hate to break it to you, pops, but I’m no prize.” When John opened his mouth to argue, Stiles interjected, “No, really, look at this from Derek’s point of view! He’s hitching his wagon to a spastic teenager with ADHD, anxiety, a history of panic attacks and depression, _and_ whose father is the sheriff. That’s like going to the pound and picking out the three-legged, one-eyed dog. You’ve _seen_ Derek, he could do _so much better_ than me.”

“No, he couldn’t,” John insisted. His son might have his faults, but they did not diminish his heart of gold. He was in an awkward phase, mired in the unkind throes of adolescence, but John had no doubts about the kind of man his son would become.

Stiles smiled. “Well, by some miracle you two actually agree on something. Derek Hale _likes_ me, Dad; I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I _did_. And now I’d like to, uh… you know… get lucky.” Stiles ducked his head and his blush burned from his hairline down to his chest.

A hundred cheeseburgers could not stress his heart the way this conversation was. A vindictive part of John wanted to tell Stiles as much. “You are really asking a lot here, Stiles,” John warned wearily.

“I know, I know. When don’t I? I’m a terrible human being. But I’ll take anything at this point. I just… Derek makes me feel like I’m special. You know, like I’m worth wanting. Worth loving.”

His son was an evil mastermind, a silver-tongued manipulator, and this conversation was living proof. “I know how strong first loves can be, kiddo, but your first love is just that. The first. Of several. You might not think so now, but someone else will think you’re worth loving one day.”

Stiles lifted one eyebrow in a look that seemed unfit on Stiles’ face, like he was borrowing the gesture from someone else. “Well, not if Derek’s the one. I mean, someone else can think that about me if they want to, that’s fine and dandy, but if I’m with Derek it’ll be a waste of their time.”

“And do you actually think he could be?” ‘ _Say no, say no, say no_ ,’ John’s mind chanted.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Well hell.


	2. Chapter 2

John told Stiles he needed to think about it for a few days, and thankfully Stiles let him have that. Stiles was notorious for pestering people relentlessly until he got what he wanted (as Derek was apparently finding out), but on this he seemed to realize John needed to process everything they’d discussed.

His instinct as a father, of course, was to say ‘hell fucking no’ and ban Stiles from seeing Derek Hale ever again. But that would only work for six months before Stiles could do whatever the hell he wanted, John’s wishes be damned, and sowing that much bad blood between him and his son was not a wedge John wanted to drive between them. They’d had too much distance between them lately already… some of which was his fault for leading Stiles to believe that Stiles’ orientation would be a problem in their home.

Yeah, he definitely felt like he had some amends to make on that count.

John would like to believe that Stiles was just caught up in the rush of a new relationship and that he wasn’t as serious about Derek as he claimed to be, that he was ‘in lust’ more than he was ‘in love’, but the truth was John knew his son better than that. Stiles’ attention was hard to lock onto any one thing, but when he did he threw himself into it full-throttle. It wasn’t in his nature to be halfheartedly into someone. Hell, look at the Martin girl. Stiles had been in love with her for _years_ , and she wouldn’t even give him the time of day. Derek was (if Stiles was to be believed) attentive and loving. Odds were that Stiles was glued to Derek Hale like a barnacle.

It just made John Stilinski’s heart hurt to think of giving a grown man his blessing to sleep with his son. Even if it seemed like that was going to happen anyway. John might be able to prevent it for six months, but after that he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Because if he tried to forbid them from seeing each other once Stiles was eighteen, it would turn into a power struggle that John couldn’t win. Never mind the fact that he didn’t _want_ to be fighting with Stiles. He didn’t enjoy it when John knew he was going to win nine times out of ten by pulling the parent card, but what would it be like when Stiles could just _leave_ if he didn’t like the limits John was trying to impose on his adult son?

And as much as John was loath to admit it, Stiles did have a point about the age gap, and that it was only an issue _now_ , with Stiles stuck on the wrong side of eighteen. John had been five years older than Claudia, a fact that John did not believe for one second escaped Stiles’ notice. They were essentially arguing about the same difference in ages, leaving John without much of a leg to stand on without sounding hypocritical.

But Stiles was _seventeen_ , and that was _pertinent_ , god damnit. It made a hell of a difference. If Stiles were twenty-one and brought home a twenty-seven-year-old Derek Hale as his boyfriend, John would…

Well, John probably still wouldn’t like it. He wasn’t going to be fond of Stiles dating anyone John had ever had in handcuffs. So sue him.

He wished Claudia were here, so they could talk through it together. So many times in the past years John had missed parenting Stiles as a team. He tried, he did, but Claudia had been everything he wasn’t. He thought maybe Stiles needed that now. A mother might have a different perspective. Maybe she’d be less immune to the idea that Stiles and Derek’s love was real.

Which was how he ended up on Melissa McCall’s doorstep Saturday morning with two cups of the expensive gourmet coffee from Starbucks in his hands.

“John,” she greeted him with a smile, welcoming but also puzzled. “What brings you here?”

“I need to talk to another parent in the worst way.”

“Uh oh,” Melissa intoned, “what did Stiles do now?”

“Got himself an age-inappropriate boyfriend,” John practically growled.

“Oh…” Melissa’s smile faltered. “He told you about Derek.” It wasn’t a question.

John gaped. “ _You knew_?”

Melissa sighed and took the proffered coffee cup. “Come on in.” She led the way to the living room and sat down on one end of the couch, wordlessly offering John the other end. “Don’t worry, we can talk without any sneaky teenage eavesdroppers; Scott’s out hiking with Stiles and the group.”

“The group including Derek Hale,” John muttered bitterly as he took a seat. And why didn’t John know about this hiking trip? And since when did Stiles _hike_? It was like he didn’t even know his own son anymore. John knew just who he was going to blame for that. Damn Derek Hale.

Melissa nodded as she took a sip of her coffee.

John narrowed his eyes at her. “How long have you known about Stiles and Derek?”

“A month, give or take.”

John was flabbergasted. “How could you not tell me about this?” he asked, feeling betrayed. He thought they were in this together as single parents. He thought Melissa had his back!

She winced. “I almost did, but Scott talked me out of it.”

“ _Scott_?”

Melissa nodded. “I know he had a rough time with Chris Argent not approving of him dating Allison, so I think he was especially sympathetic to Stiles’ situation with Derek. I guess Stiles knew he could trust Scott to know what he was going through, because he was coming to Scott and unloading his stress about hiding the relationship on him. Then Scott came to _me_ for advice, because Stiles was upset and Scott didn’t know how to help.”

“What exactly did you say to him?”

“Actually, _Scott_ told me what we could do for Stiles. I asked Scott what helped when it was him and Allison, and he said having me on his side was a huge relief. Mr. Argent might not approve, but I did.” Melissa looked at John warily. “Stiles knew you wouldn’t approve – I thought the best thing I could do was give them a safe space.”

That made John sound like a bigot. “Oh Christ,” he groaned, putting his cup down on the coffee table. “It’s not that I’m against _homosexuality_. I don’t care about that. I could have told Stiles it was okay for him to like boys if he’d bothered to ask me at _any_ point in his life! I’m not an asshole.”

“But you don’t approve,” she pointed out.

“Derek’s _twenty-three_!” John pleaded his case. It was ridiculous that he even had to. Melissa was supposed to be on his side, for fuck’s sake. “How can you tell me that’s okay?”

“It wasn’t about me thinking it was _okay_ so much as it was about Stiles needing someone on his side. He knew you wouldn’t be, and I’m pretty much the only other adult in Stiles’ life.” That was sad but true. “I tried to… I thought Claudia would have at least given Derek a chance.”

That hit John like a kick in the gut.

Melissa shrugged. “And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Stiles’ mother would have been just as against this as you are – I don’t know, I didn’t know her as well as you did – but I didn’t want Stiles to feel like he had no one he could go to if he needed to talk to someone, and, well… if he and Derek _did_ decide to have sex… I’m a _nurse_. It would be best if Stiles felt like he could come to me with questions.”

There was no arguing that having an adult healthcare professional Stiles could go to with sex questions was probably a good thing, but _still_ …

“Stiles came up to me a couple of days ago asking for permission for them to have sex.”

“ _Wow_ …” Melissa marveled, “that was ballsy of him.”

“Yeah, that’s a word for it.” John’s expression soured. “And I don’t know what to make of it, honestly. Surely Stiles wouldn’t have put us both through that horribly uncomfortable conversation if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, but on the other hand, am I really supposed to believe he and Derek _aren’t_ having sex already?” Stiles was a _teenager_ , and hormonally speaking Derek wasn’t much better than one, and what two horny young men abstained and asked _permission_ first?

“They’re not having sex.”

John eyed her dubiously.

“Trust me, Stiles has taken full advantage of having an adult ear on the matter, and I know far too much about the sexless state of your son’s life than I ever wanted to. I think _everyone_ in their social circle does.” She smirked like she had to laugh or she’d cry from the trauma of Stiles lamenting his blue balls. “But I _can_ tell you that when they’re both here, Derek is a perfect gentleman.”

John snorted.

“Honestly, John, he’s good with Stiles. _Careful_. Better than Stiles when it comes to restraint, I can tell you that.”

_That_ part wasn’t hard to believe.

“I’ve gotten to know Derek a lot better in the last year or so,” Melissa continued, “and he’s not a bad kid. He’s a little rough around the edges – and given his past, who can blame him – but he tries. He wants to do the right thing.”

Which was what this ‘not without your father’s leave’ business was all about, John supposed. But _still_ , it went against every parental instinct John had. “If he wanted to do the ‘right thing’, he wouldn’t be dating a seventeen-year-old,” he grumbled.

“I know. And the fact he is anyway kind of says a lot about how much he cares about Stiles.”

Well, fuck. “Now I’m hearing Derek Hale going all Brokeback Mountain in my head with that ‘I wish I knew how to quit you’ line.” Because _yeah_ , he’d seen the movie, because he was _not_ a homophobic prick (take note, Stiles).

Melissa chuckled. “Honestly, I’m glad he can’t.”

John looked up at that.

“I love Stiles like my own, you know that, but I care about Derek, too. And when he’s with Stiles, it’s… it’s like seeing an abused animal experience kindness for the first time.”

That… that was. John didn’t know what to do with that. That was too intense for a first love, that was for damn sure. Stiles had never been in a relationship before – why couldn’t he have had a normal, carefree, short-lived teenage romance to dip his toes in the water of the dating pool instead of diving headfirst into the deep end?

Because he was _Stiles_ was the obvious answer.

“Do you think they’ll still be together in six months?” John asked. If there was a chance this thing would fizzle out in two or three months, he could tell Stiles ‘no’ and it might never turn into an issue. Stiles would pout but then he and Derek would break up and he’d probably admit that John was right to put the brakes on them getting physical. He might even be thanked for stopping Stiles from getting too involved with someone too old for him. John’s age and wisdom had to count for something.

“If I were a betting woman, I’d say yes.”

Well, so much for that frail hope.

“You know what Stiles is doing by asking you for permission, right?” 

“Trying to send me into cardiac arrest?” John countered. If he went to an early grave, that would certainly clear the way for him and Derek to be together, though he never thought his son would resort to such drastic measures. Maybe he shouldn’t have missed the party Melissa threw for Stiles’ thirteenth birthday because he had to work.

Melissa smirked. “No. He’s asking you to trust his judgment.”

John balked. “But he’s _seventeen_.” He felt like he should have that tattooed on his forearm so he could brandish it every five minutes.

“Seventeen-and-a-half,” Melissa pointed out (unnecessarily, in John’s opinion; why did she have to mention the countdown to Legal Adult Stiles?). “And not all seventeen-year-olds are the same. Stiles grew up a lot faster than most of the kids his age.”

He had to when his mom died. That was at least _partly_ John’s fault, too. He’d dropped the ball right after his wife’s death, self-medicated his grief with alcohol, and Stiles had ended up taking care of _him_. Even when John got his shit together and stopped drinking (he didn’t wallow in self-pity for very long, but it was exactly when Stiles had needed him the most), Stiles still tried to take on a lot of the responsibilities Claudia had left behind. John saw it happening, and he didn’t like it, but he couldn’t do much about it. He had to work a lot because he still had to house and feed and clothe his kid, and as a result, in a sense, Stiles had to raise himself. He’d been an adult for a while in every sense but the legal one, and now Stiles was asking John to acknowledge that.

But hell if it didn’t felt like admitting defeat as a father to do it.

“I don’t know if I can be party to this,” John grumbled. “Stiles is _underage_. I’m a _cop_.” Those two facts were in direct conflict with each other.

Melissa shrugged. “I can’t help you there. All I can tell you is that Derek and Stiles seem to genuinely care for each other. And if you really can’t loosen the reins and trust them… well, they’ll still care for each other six months from now.”

Yes, but would Stiles’ trust in his father still be intact?


	3. Chapter 3

All told, it took five days for John to muster up the courage to address the question Stiles had put to his father in what was definitely _the most awkward_ conversation father and son had ever had. And he was including the first ‘talk’ about the birds and the bees in that ranking. John would much rather revisit that uncomfortable talk with a seven-year-old Stiles about a far-distant future with sex than deal with this – which was far more immediate and much less hypothetical.

It was probably cowardly to avoid giving Stiles an answer for five days, but John was kind of hoping if he ignored the problem long enough it would just go away (Stiles had learned the tactic from _somewhere_ ). He had legitimate excuses to put it off, of course. Work, work, work, busy, busy, just no time _anywhere_ to have a sit-down with Stiles about his very adult boyfriend with whom Stiles wanted to have very adult _sex_. No sirrie. Wow, just so much paperwork! That and John kept hoping the universe would spare him. There was always the small glimmer of hope that an outstanding warrant for Derek’s arrest in New York would surface, and if Derek had to be extradited out of the state, well, that wasn’t John’s fault. Or Derek could discover he had long-lost relatives in Romania and feel like he _had_ to go to them to celebrate their Haleness together.

But no arrest warrants magically appeared, no Romanian cousins crawled out of the woodwork, and Stiles had been patient with his father, but John knew his son. Patience was not one of his strengths. If John didn’t bring it up, Stiles would, and John would lose face if his son had to hunt him down and corner him about it.

So when John got home from work on Thursday, he immediately went up the stairs to find his son.

He was brought up short in the hall outside his son’s room when he heard Stiles laughing behind his closed bedroom door. For a moment, John thought Derek must be in there with him, and it made him rest his hand on the butt of his gun still holstered on his hip.

Then he heard Stiles start talking, seemingly to himself, but the half of a give-and-take of conversation meant there had to be another side to it that John couldn’t hear. So telephone. Which was still probably Derek.

John didn’t move right away, because the sound of his son’s laughter was echoing in his heart. He hadn’t heard Stiles laugh like that in a long time. Not nearly enough since his mother died, and hardly at all in the last two years. It was his infectious, no holds barred belly-laugh, and John had started to think that maybe it was something Stiles had outgrown. It was distressing to think gut-busting laughter was going to be something Stiles left behind as he got older… but apparently it wasn’t. It was still there, and Derek Hale had found it.

It made this both easier and harder.

John took a few fortifying breaths to steady himself. He told his heart not to hurt so much – Stiles was always going to grow up someday, with or without an ulcer-inducing boyfriend – and he hoped Claudia would agree with what he was about to do.

He stood in front of Stiles’ door and lightly rapped his knuckles on it… which Stiles didn’t hear, being in the middle of another braying laugh. John’s mouth twitched upward at the corners at the sound. God, he’d missed that laugh.

John waited a beat then opened the door to ease into Stiles’ room.

He found Stiles on his bed in what had to be the most ungainly pose known to man. Instead of lying lengthwise like a normal person, Stiles was sprawled on his back perpendicular in the middle of the bed. It meant there wasn’t room for his lanky height, so his head was hanging off the side and his legs were propped up on the wall, knees locked and heels rolling. He was holding his cell phone to his ear with one hand and twirling his car keys around the index finger of the other, probably just to have an outlet for his endless kinetic energy. It wouldn’t be long before the keys went flying and Stiles hit himself in the face with them; Stiles wasn’t exactly the most coordinated creature on the planet.

Stiles was grinning into the phone (with his head upside-down, it looked kind of psychotic) and saying, “No _way_ , dude, I’ve _seen_ Scott try to dance, it’s way worse than that! Waterfowl mating dances look better! My boy tries, but the dance gods did not bless him with rhythm. But whatever, maybe Allison likes –” then Stiles’ voice died when he noticed his father standing in the doorway.

With a frantic scramble that looked like watching a cat flip over mid-fall, Stiles twisted onto his knees in two seconds flat until he was right-side up facing his dad. “Oh, hey! Uh…”

“Is that Derek?” John asked, gesturing to the phone.

“Um… yeah.”

John moved toward the bed and held out his hand. “Let me talk to him.”

Stiles’ eyes widened and he leaned back a little, like John could physically attack Derek through the phone.

John gave Stiles a pointed look and waggled his fingers expectantly.

“Uh, Derek, hold on a sec,” Stiles said into the phone and warily handed it over to his father. He continued to watch John closely as the sheriff brought the phone to his ear.

“Derek?”

There was a definite hesitation on the other end. “Yes… sir?”

Well, that sounded like fear. That was good. “So Stiles tells me you two are dating.”

Another stretch of silence. “He said he _told_ you we haven’t… that we’re not… I haven’t touched him!”

Which was the problem, according to Stiles.

“That’s what he claims,” John countered, because it was still hard to believe that. Truthfully, a part of John felt like Derek and Stiles were already having sex and Stiles was just pulling this ‘asking for permission’ stunt on the chance it would work and they wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught anymore. Stiles and Melissa might have both asserted otherwise, but John’s gut told him something different. After all, John had been a young man himself once. He knew how, shall we say, _single-minded_ guys were at that age. And he wasn’t talking about single-minded about their academics.

“ _I didn’t_.” John thought he could _hear_ Derek’s teeth grinding over the phone. He looked down at Stiles and found his son poised tensely on the bed, watching John like a lion waiting to pounce. He looked like he was ready to jump to Derek’s defense any second. There was a spark in Stiles’ eyes like John was the _enemy_ , and John hated it. John reined in his protective parent vibe a little; intimidating Derek was one thing, but pushing Stiles to pick a side wasn’t part of the plan. Especially when it looked like he would pick _Derek’s_. ‘Shit’ didn’t even begin to cover that.

“Take it easy, Hale,” John told Derek to mollify him, then he rubbed at his temple. “Are you busy?”

Yet another noticeable pause. It was like Derek gauged each question for its threat potential before he spoke. “No.”

“Good. Come over here.”

“… right now?”

“Yes. I need to have a chat with both of you.”

Another really painful pause. “Okay.” Then there was a beep as the call disconnected.

John handed the phone back to Stiles, who was still watching him warily. “What, uh… what’s up, Daddio?”

“What’s up is that the three of us are going to have a talk.”

Stiles frowned. “Do we really have to drag Derek into this? I mean, whatever you wanted to tell us, I could just pass it along.”

John gave his son a hard, pointed look of parental disapproval. “If Derek’s your boyfriend, then no, you don’t get to weasel out of having him meet your father.”

“But he’s already met you!”

“And weren’t those some impressive circumstances?” John intoned sarcastically.

Stiles wilted a little. “He was exonerated,” he muttered churlishly. Then he eyed John’s uniform. “Are you at least going to change before he gets here?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, _come on_!”

“I’m trying to drive home a point, Stiles. I’m your father, but I’m also the law. You would both do well to remember that.”

Stiles scowled mightily. “Oh, we do. Every minute we spend together is a constant freaking reminder.” He sounded bitter about that, and John supposed he could understand. He couldn’t imagine how bittersweet his first dates with Claudia would have been if a dark cloud had been perpetually hanging over them. Then again, John had had better sense than to pursue someone who was jailbait.

“All right, fine,” Stiles sighed in surrender. “Just…” then he clammed up, uncertain.

“Just what?”

“Don’t hurt him.”

Stiles sounded genuinely worried about that, and it made John pause. What exactly did Stiles think he was going to do? Lay into Derek with his fists? Pistol-whip him? _Shoot him_? What kind of person did Stiles think he had for a father?

“I didn’t ask him over to _assault him_ , Stiles, _jesus_.” He might _want_ to, yes, but to actually _do it_ …

“That’s not what I…” Stiles huffed and climbed off the bed, standing before his father and squaring his shoulders. “Never mind. Let’s just get this over with.”

As if _John_ had set these events in motion. He would have gladly gone back in time to make it so that this impending conversation didn’t _need_ to happen at all. “ _You_ wanted this, Stiles… not me.”

“Yeah, I know… just… just don’t hurt him.”

John didn’t know what the hell that meant, but an uneasy knot tied up his insides all the same. He’d chalk it up to instincts honed after decades in law enforcement.


	4. Chapter 4

The second Derek’s Camaro pulled up to the curb in front of the Stilinski house, Stiles was on his feet and out the front door. It had such an air of desperation to it that John shamelessly went to the window to see what he was going to do. There was always the possibility that Stiles would jump in Derek’s car and run away with him rather than endure ‘the talk’, although John would like to point out that Stiles brought it entirely upon himself.

The curtains were made from a rough-woven fabric – in such a way that in the daylight, one could see outside through the curtains (albeit fuzzily) without having to draw them back. It gave John a sense of camouflage as he watched the scene unfolding on his lawn.

Derek had barely taken three steps toward the house when Stiles rushed up to him. The pair stopped and Stiles started talking a mile a minute. John couldn’t hear it, but he knew that’s what Stiles was doing from the way his mouth was moving, the way his hands were gesturing wildly, and the way his chest was heaving as his body kept trying to tell him _breathing_ was still important _while_ one was talking. Stiles was visibly upset, hands waving toward the house, toward Derek’s car, between himself and Derek. Once or twice, Derek had to lean back to avoid being smacked in the face with an errant hand.

But for all Stiles’ histrionics, Derek didn’t look nearly as distressed as Stiles did. He looked _tense_ , sure. _Nervous_ , John hoped. But he seemed more focused on Stiles’ obvious level of anxiety than his own predicament. He tried to speak a few times to no avail – Stiles wasn’t going to let him get a word in until oxygen deprivation became a real issue – but he seemed uncomfortably _used to_ this. Like he knew Stiles just had to work through all the thoughts that had been piling up in his brain and he was content to let him.

It was the kind of patience not many people had with Stiles, even though it was the exact kind of patience Stiles needed. John didn’t know how to feel about Derek _getting_ Stiles like that.

Derek let him rant a little while longer, then he reached up and caught both of Stiles’ wrists in his hands. He pulled them in and trapped Stiles’ hands against his chest. Stiles’ hands fisted at Derek’s shirt as he finally focused on the Hale boy, looking Derek in the eye for longer than a millisecond for the first time since Derek’s arrival.

Then something remarkable happened.

Stiles went lax, the frantic energy seemingly flying out of him as he took a few deep breaths. John watched in astonishment. Did Hale use some kind of magic trick, like the Vulcan nerve pinch, to calm Stiles down that fast? He must have, because John had never seen Stiles pull back so fast from being so near to out of control.

Derek said something, to which Stiles shook his head. Derek spoke again, and this time Stiles just scowled and pressed his lips together mulishly. Derek stood still for a moment, and while Stiles had dropped his eyes to his hands where they remained pinned to Derek’s chest, Derek was studying Stiles’ face. It looked like caring. If it were anyone else’s son on the receiving end, John might even call it love.

Then Stiles looked back up at Derek and leaned in. For a heartbeat, John thought they were going to kiss, but before that could happen Derek pulled back. It left Stiles hanging in the space where Derek had been, and it looked so much like abandonment and rejection that John felt a quick moment of anger at Derek for not giving Stiles one damn kiss.

“Oh hell,” he muttered to himself. More than anything, he wished his wife were here to help him through this. Maybe she would have something reassuring to say as Derek and Stiles turned and headed toward the house side by side.

John was standing in the middle of the living room when the two came inside. He was still in his uniform, as promised, but he’d put away his gun – he had been unaccountably troubled by how worried Stiles seemed to be that John would actually hurt Derek. It was _insane_ , but when he’d come downstairs to wait for Derek after putting away his weapon, Stiles had definitely glanced down and noted the absence of the holster.

Although John couldn’t deny there was a desire to at least throw a cup at Derek Hale as he stood before him uncertainly.

“Derek,” John greeted.

Derek’s face flinched, went from looking impassive to constipated then back again. “Sheriff.”

Stiles was fidgeting next to Derek, looking uneasily between his father and his boyfriend. Derek looked like he would rather be eating a cereal bowl of screws and nails.

“Well, this is going to be horribly uncomfortable for everyone, so how about we just get to it and be done with it?” John asked, gesturing toward the couch.

Derek wordlessly sat on one end of the couch while Stiles took the other. John indulged in a little alpha posturing and remained standing, looming over them a little bit from across the coffee table. He kind of expected avoidance of eye contact from the Hale kid, but he got the exact opposite. Derek seemed to be watching him closely, maybe looking for any signs of attack. It didn’t bolster John’s ego like he’d thought it would.

“I imagine I don’t have to tell you why I’m not thrilled about this.”

“No, sir,” Derek responded carefully, looking John dead in the eye as he did, and it was just strange. Mismatched. Derek was complying with commands, acknowledging his precarious situation, but he was also meeting John head-on. It was a peculiar blend of dominant and submissive, and it kind of flew in the face of his experience with interrogating people.

“You’re either brave to the point of suicidal, dumb as a box of rocks, or deeply in love with my son to come here.”

At that, Derek’s gaze broke and he darted a look over at Stiles. “I might be all three,” he grumbled, like even he couldn’t believe what he was willing to do for Stiles.

A smile wrestled its way onto Stiles’ face before he could fight it back.

“You’re too old for him.” No reason to beat around the bush, John figured.

“I know,” Derek answered. He didn’t even _try_ to argue that he wasn’t.

“Wait, no, objection!” Stiles squawked.

“This isn’t a courtroom, Stiles,” John sighed. “Just… let me do the talking right now.”

Stiles looked indignant but he did shut his mouth.

“Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t arrest you right now?”

Stiles sat up then, _furious_ , but Derek spoke before Stiles could explode. “I haven’t touched him.”

“That’s what I’ve been told, but can you see why I’d be disinclined to believe that? Look at it from my perspective, Derek. You’re older, more experienced, good-looking… frankly, Stiles probably idolizes you. He’d let you talk him into a lot, I’ll bet. Things maybe he isn’t ready for.”

“ _Dad_!”

“I would _never_ do that. I won’t let that happen to him. I _won’t_. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Derek should be yelling those words at the sheriff, but he _wasn’t_. They were falling from his lips frighteningly low and hushed. The color had drained from his face and he was clutching the couch cushion on either side of his legs in a white-knuckle grip.

An undefinable tendril of dread began trickling down John’s spine.

“Derek…” Stiles leaned across the middle cushion to touch his arm.

Derek looked sharply at him. “Do you get it now?”

“ _No_.” Stiles’ expression was thunderous. “No, we are _nothing_ like that, and you are _nothing_ like her. It’s _not_ the same. For one, you were only _sixteen_ when that happened, and I’m damn near eighteen, but even if I _wasn’t_ , you’re not a fucking monster. Don’t do this, Derek, _please_.”

“But he’s right,” Derek countered bitterly.

“No he’s _not_ ,” Stiles snarled. “I _care_ about you, and I _trust_ you, and I know you’d die to protect me. I know you’d kill anyone who tried to hurt me. So don’t you dare compare us to _that_. _We_ are in a relationship; _she_ raped you.”

Oh _fuck_. 

Without thinking, John took a step back, giving ground and backing off because he’d had no idea. He knew Hale had some dark spots in his past, but this was never in his records. There was nothing about sexual abuse. Being orphaned and losing his home, yes, but nothing about _this_. Just how awful was Derek Hale’s past?

“But that’s what your father sees when he looks at me,” Derek told Stiles point-blank, and Stiles’ head snapped up and he skewered John with a burning glare.

And John finally understood what Stiles had meant by ‘don’t hurt him’… which was exactly what John had done.

If there was a right way to do this, John had done the complete polar opposite of it.

“Derek…” he began softly, easing closer.

Derek looked up at him, expression pinched and nostrils flaring.

“Listen… I’m sorry.” He stole a glance over at his son, who was radiating tension and in full defensive mode. “I didn’t know.”

“I’m fine.”

Stiles snorted.

Derek twitched a perturbed look at Stiles then redirected his focus on the sheriff. “But you have to believe me when I say I would never do that to Stiles.”

Okay… yeah, okay.

In need of a little distance, John left the living room to grab two water bottles from the fridge. When he came back, he handed one to Derek and the other one to Stiles. Derek looked sourly at the bottle like he’d never seen one before then set it on the coffee table. Stiles began to roll the plastic container in his hands with apparently no thoughts of drinking from it.

John moved over to his recliner and sat down. Suddenly having the height advantage didn’t seem that impressive anymore.

“For what it’s worth, I believe you when you say you don’t want to hurt Stiles,” John began hesitantly, “but as a parent and the sheriff I can’t ignore that he’s still six months shy of eighteen.”

“Five months, one week, and two days,” Stiles quipped, “but who’s counting?”

John rubbed his eyes in exasperation. “ _Be that as it may_ , six years is a big age gap. Maybe not in ten or twenty years, but right now it is. There is a world of difference in experience and maturity between seventeen and twenty-three.”

“Do you really think I’m going to be vastly more mature and worldly in just five months, one week, and two days?” Stiles asked.

“Well, you obviously thought five months, one week, and two days was a lifetime to wait when you asked for permission to have sex!”

Derek’s head whipped around to look at Stiles. “ _What_?! You asked him if we could have _sex_?”

Stiles spazzed, flailed, and dropped his water bottle. He scrambled briefly and uselessly for it until it rolled under the couch, at which point he finally gave up the retrieval mission and jerked upright to respond to the accusation… by not denying it at all. “Well?! You never know unless you ask! It’s basic strategy! You don’t go into negotiations with your bare minimum on the table, dude! You ask for the whole enchilada and heckle your way down! I say sex, Dad says arrest, and we find a middle ground!”

“I don’t want to know what is the enchilada in this scenario,” Derek groaned. “God damnit, Stiles, no wonder your father hates me.” Then he sat up to look over at John past Stiles in his corner of the couch. “Sir, I know he’s your son, but I want to apologize for him.”

Stiles squawked.

John’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

“I thought we were in agreement that he was going to ask you to let us date properly.” Derek cast a withering look at Stiles. “As in going out publicly, dinners, movies…”

“Well, technically, you just said the dating part,” Stiles countered. “And ‘dating’ can cast a pretty wide net to cover huge variety of activities. It could be dinner and a movie, absolutely, but I would argue that a healthy relationship has a sexual component, too. It’s not my fault we hadn’t really defined what ‘dating’ means for you and what it means for me before you said you’d agree to it if my dad gave us his blessing. So really, that was on you for not being more specific.”

Derek rolled his eyes then covered his face with one hand like he was fighting down the urge to strangle Stiles. John couldn’t help but smirk to see Derek contending with the truly diabolical mind of one Stiles Stilinski. It felt good to have someone else share his pain.

“Regardless of anyone’s definition of ‘dating’,” John said, “I can’t ‘give you my blessing’ for the two of you to have sex. That’s asking too much.”

“That’s completely understandable, sir,” Derek replied while giving Stiles a sharp look. Stiles threw his hands up like he was being forced to deal with obtuse Puritans.

“I trust that won’t be a problem?” John asked, looking to Derek, because it was obvious Hale was going to have to be the paragon of self-control in the relationship.

While Derek shook his head gravely, Stiles wailed, “Oh, come on, Dad! That’s not fair! None of my friends had to wait!”

“None of your friends wanted to date someone six years their senior.”

“ _Fine_ , but if it’s inevitable _anyway_ , what’s even the point of having to wait _so long_?”

“Five months, one week, two days,” John parroted back vindictively. Not that John would be throwing confetti the day Stiles turned eighteen, but at least John would rest in the knowledge that he’d done everything humanly possible as a father to protect his son until legal adulthood.

“ _Ugh_! I’m going to be the last virgin in the whole school!” Stiles whined.

“That’s not true, I’ve met that kid Greenberg,” John countered.

Despite his best efforts to be devastated by the decree of no sex, Stiles laughed. Derek answered with a smile before he could school his features back into something mildly sinister, like the sound of Stiles’ laughter brought a smile to Derek’s face without his control. Catching the smile out of the corner of his eye, Stiles glanced toward Derek and gave him a wink-finger-gun combo. Derek shook his head like he was annoyed, but it wasn’t very convincing.

A scary part of John was starting to actually enjoy watching the two of them together. He was starting to get what Melissa had been talking about, much to his chagrin. “But I will allow you to go out together for what _Derek_ calls ‘dating’.”

Stiles gave a grunt while Derek nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“And I expect you over for dinner no less than three nights a week, Derek.”

Stiles sat up then. “What? Why?”

“If you’re dating him, son, I want to get to know him.” He would want to know _any_ boyfriend Stiles dated, but _especially_ this one. Keeping an eye on the situation would do his heart a world of good.

Stiles floundered. “But you kind of do already, right? I mean, three nights a week is a little _excessive_ , don’t you think? How are we going to work in actual dates if we’re _here_ all the time?”

“Why can’t dinners here count?”

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but Derek beat him to it. “That’s fine, sir. Three nights a week won’t be a problem.”

“Traitor,” Stiles hissed at Derek. When Derek just have him an unimpressed look, Stiles added, “I don’t like you being so agreeable. It’s freaking me out.”

Derek shrugged. “Your dad’s the boss here.”

“That’s right, I am.” John preened a little at the acknowledgment. “And after a month, if I feel comfortable with how things are going, we can talk about dropping the dinners at home down to one or two times a week.”

Stiles grumbled under his breath but didn’t raise another complaint, allowing John to continue to lay down the rules of this relationship. “Your curfew stays the same, and I expect you to obey it. If that becomes a problem, you dating Derek at all might become a problem.”

Stiles looked affronted that permission to date Derek was going to be used as a tool to secure Stiles’ obedience to house rules, but it seemed John had finally found an incentive Stiles valued enough, because he just gave a curt nod.

“And I want to know when you’re out with him.” When Stiles rallied to protest ankle monitors or GPS tracking, John hastened to add, “All I ask is a text to let me know where you are.” Stiles had been so secretive the last couple of years, and John was tired of feeling like he had no idea what was going on with his own son. As long as he knew Stiles was with Derek… well, it would be an improvement over the last year when he was never sure where his son was any given moment that he wasn’t in his room sleeping.

“I’ll be sure to remind him,” Derek agreed.

John thought maybe he could learn to like this Derek kid.

Stiles perked up. “Fine, I’ll agree to the dinners and the big brother stuff, but can we talk about me getting a little physical contact?”

At John’s questioning look (and Derek’s aghast one), Stiles leaned forward and pleaded his case. “I get it, no sex, but you have to give me _something_! I can’t even get Derek to kiss me! I’m starting to think he doesn’t even want to!”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Derek mumbled grumpily, “of course I want to.”

“But you _don’t_ , so…?” Stiles looked hopefully at his father.

It looked like this was the moment that would break John’s heart just a little, but he was prepared for it. In the past hour, he felt better about his son’s relationship and about Derek. He could give a little.

“Kissing’s fine.”

Stiles’ eyes lit up and he gave an enthusiastic punch in the air. “ _Yes_!”

Derek gave Stiles a fondly exasperated look.

“Excellent, yes! Kissing’s good! I am so on board with that!” Stiles enthused, then he practically lunged at John, because Stiles just could not help but push his limits. “Okay, so with kissing on one end of the spectrum and sex on the other – which is forbidden, I got it, reading you loud and clear, father dearest – but where do we fall on everything in the middle?”

Derek mouthed ‘sorry’ at John while the sheriff just basked in seeing his son so bright and alive again. And also wanting to throttle him a little, but that was just Stiles’ charm. John would always love his son as much as he usually wanted to shake him.

“We’re not drawing up a list, Stiles,” John warned. Mostly because his heart couldn’t take it. And what the hell would they do with it? Stick it on the fridge like Stiles’ first-grade art projects? Absolutely no way, _no_.

“Yeah, no, that’d be all kinds of TMI,” Stiles agreed, “but maybe a few guidelines? I mean, even ‘kissing’ is kind of vague, if you think about it. Like what _kind_ of kissing? And _where_? The possibilities are _endless_ …”

“Stop!” John kind of yelped.

For once, Stiles did.

John considered his options a moment, wondering if there was any possible way they could escape this conversation without fatal levels of embarrassment, then he decided they couldn’t afford to. Not if he wanted to be completely clear on where he was going to draw the line as far as Stiles’ relationship with his twenty-three-year-old boyfriend was concerned. Stiles could take ambiguity too far.

“Nobody’s penis goes into anyone else in any way, shape, or form. Your dicks stay in your pants. That clear enough?”

Derek’s eyes went wide like a deer in the headlights.

Stiles just looked thoughtful. John could _see_ the wheels turning, and that was not good for John’s health.

Stiles pounced as John knew he would. “So _technically_ we could –”

“ _Ah_!” John held up a hand to stop his son right there. “I do _not_ need to hear all the loopholes you’re thinking about, because I’m pretty sure I won’t like them, and you don’t really want me to shoot them down one by one, do you?” Not to mention John didn’t want to _hear_ them listed one by one.

Stiles clicked his jaw shut. “Ah, no. Nope, good point. I am shutting up right now.”

“Good. So we’ll leave it at ‘keep it in your pants’ and for the love of _god_ , don’t tell me what you can think up that falls outside that restriction.” Seriously. Stiles had one hell of an imagination and an internet connection. There be monsters.

With a sigh, John turned to Derek. “I’m expecting you to rein him in, Derek. I know this is Stiles and that’s a tall order, but we _will_ be revisiting this agreement if I get any reports of public indecency.”

“Yes, sir.” Derek said while at the same time Stiles chimed in, “ _Ruuude_ , I’m right here, guys.”

“Okay, good. Now get out of here. I’ve had as much of this talk as I can stand.”

Derek and Stiles did not have to be told twice. Stiles leapt to his feet, practically bouncing off the walls from being so ecstatic, while Derek just pretended he found it irritating. They headed for the front door while John turned on the television to wash the last hour out of his brain with a baseball game.

As the pair were walking out the door, John heard Stiles say to Derek in not-quite-a-whisper, “You’re going to start doing my laundry, big guy, because I am going to be coming in my pants _so much_ …” before the door shut loudly and John literally face-palmed.

He loved his son, but some days it was like living with a hurricane.

Still, he couldn’t help getting up and going back to the window for a peek.

Stiles and Derek were standing in the front yard facing each other once again, but this time they were both smiling. Stiles was exuberant. Derek looked smitten and maybe a little relieved.

Then Stiles lunged forward and planted an awkward kiss on Derek. John was now certain they hadn’t done it before, because Stiles clearly had no familiarity with the move or any idea what he was doing. It looked more like he was attacking Derek with his mouth. It was so uncoordinated and unskilled that John actually felt a little sorry for Stiles.

Until Derek took over, and at least one of them knew what they were doing. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, and Stiles went loose in his hold as the kiss gentled and turned into the two of them making out rather than Stiles punching Derek’s lips with his face. Stiles melted against Derek’s body and brought his hands up to rake his fingers through Derek’s hair.

It was hard to watch because it was proof that Stiles was growing up, but if John had to lay odds, he would say that Derek loved Stiles. And that wasn’t so bad – if Stiles had to grow up anyway, better he grow up loved. Claudia would have wanted that for her son. If nothing else, John was certain of that. He would have preferred someone closer to Stiles’ age, but when had Stiles ever made life easy on his parents?

Hell, maybe Derek would be a stabilizing influence in Stiles’ life. God knew Stiles could use one. And Hale seemed to be worried about doing the right thing for Stiles, even when it was the last thing Stiles wanted. If someone was out there that could keep Stiles in check, keep his feet on the ground, well…

He couldn’t stop them from seeing each other – when had parents forbidding their kids from seeing someone ever worked? – so he was going to hope for the best. Hopefully within the next five months, one week, and two days, he would know if he could trust Derek Hale with his son’s heart.

For Stiles’ sake, John hoped the answer would be yes.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LiveJournal: <http://miss-annthropic.livejournal.com>


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